Dresses

The first time I felt you letting go
like a knot in my stomach, an ache in my soul
I guess that's intuition, I mistook it for the flu
sick and tired of being tired, holding on to you

Now the time between my thoughts is white
like my agenda pages, despite
my efforts to fill the empty places
in all this space, my mind, it races

I stand in my closet and look at my clothes
A bit of hope here I suppose
So many dresses collecting dust
And a head full of fading pictures of us